Dis Gaudium
by Empty Boundaries
Summary: The world of Dis is a prison, a hellish maze of walls the size of mountains, a patchwork of lost kingdoms and nightmarish realms at the edge of reality; a place where magic and monsters are real and dangerous. Crafted by a mad god, Dis serves only one purpose: to entertain its jailer. That is until said god bites off more than he can chew...
1. Chapter 1

**AN** : **I don't own** _ **Dis Acedia,**_ **that belongs to** **M.J. Durand.**

* * *

I had always liked train rides.

On one hand, they were long, uneventful, and more importantly, dull. On the other hand, they were the perfect time to read in peace.

I checked the time. Twelve O'clock. The train was scheduled to stop in four hours, although I doubted I would notice when we entered the city with the mist outside. After a year living here, I had grown accustomed to England's more than not terrible weather, but today took the cake. A thick white fog covered the world beyond the window.

Before returning to my book, I briefly glanced at the rest of the wagon. It was deserted, save for one person taking the seat right in front of me, hidden behind a large newspaper. I barely spared him a look before returning to my book. The lack of people didn't bother me; if anything it allowed me to read undisturbed.

"Tell me, do you believe in magic?"

I glanced at the man in front of me, nearly entirely hidden behind his Scottish newspaper. "Excuse me?"

"Do you believe in magic?" he repeated with a clear, mirthful voice. I didn't know why, but something in his tone bothered me. He sounded so insincere.

"You mean stage tricks?" I asked.

"No, magic. Like in the book you're reading."

I considered my reply. "I haven't seen anyone flying on broomsticks yet."

"Ah, yes, skepticism." The last word dripped with condescension. "Oh, how common it is nowadays… I long for the time when your kind burned women alive for witchcraft. Do you know why?"

I didn't know who the thrakatul was, his disguise was _terrible_ , but the more he talked, the more irritating I found him. Indeed, he was the most irritating one I had ever met. But of course, I restrained myself from interrupting; it wouldn't do to give myself away and render a year's worth of effort to go to waste. "Because magic used to be feared. It used to be the Devil's bread and butter, the stuff of nightmares. Now magic is either a superstition or a trick to amuse children."

At this point, I realized the thrakatul wasn't talking to me, but at me, and I focused back on my book. It was rude yes, but if this guy loved hearing himself talk so much I would happily oblige him. I just wouldn't listen.

However, when I reached what should have been the first chapter, I found the page blank.

Inwardly rolling my eyes at the thrakatul's propensity for melodrama, I kept up the act and checked the next page, and the next after it. Blanks, both of them. As expected, the thing's spell had wiped all the words off the book. What a waste of ten pounds.

"What's wrong?" the thing asked with a playful tone, "Surely this book must be an entertaining read."

I summoned up my best acting skills and turned to face the guy, eyes widening with (feigned) astonishment. "How did you do this?" I asked. "I didn't let my belongings out of my sight since I boarded this train."

Smugness radiated off him. "I can do magic," he simply replied, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

I let out a laugh. "Yeah, right, really funny. You got me. Now give me back my book."

"Give back what? You have a book in hands have you not?"

God, that tone of his was starting to get on my nerves. "Look, alright, I admit it you're a good stage magician. Now can you please give me my book back?"

"Stage magician?" I noticed his hands' grasp on the newspaper tighten. "I see. Well, I can do something more spectacular if you wish, mister…"

I felt a wave of magic wash over me, stealing the name of the body I wore. Once again, irritating, but hardly warranting bodily harm. I like to think of myself as a relatively peaceful person.

"What's wrong? You cannot say it?" the thrakatul taunted, "I am afraid you might have been a victim of name theft. Tragic thing, happens to all sorts of people, I would fill a complaint as soon as possible if I were you."

I screwed up my face into a look of confused frustration. At this rate, I'll receive an Oscar for my acting skills.

"There it is! I was waiting for that instant…" I glanced at him as he shed his disguise, noticed his fingers weren't fingers, but scribbled paper shaped like hands. "That face never gets old," the thrakatul in front of me chuckled. "Do you know what it means to be nameless?

"It means," he said, lowering his journal and revealing his face, "That I own you."

My world flashed red.

* * *

Once I reestablished the connection with my vessel, I found myself held above a gaping stone pit, kept upside down by strong, silver chains restraining my hands and feet. My eyes flickered around me, but all I could see outside the pit was a thick white mist.

The abyss beneath me was large enough to swallow an elephant, the bottom so far away I couldn't distinguish anything but darkness. God, this was so cliched.

As if to confirm that thought, a figure approached, a humanoid shape that soon became visible as it walked to the pit's edge; I heard sounds of invisible trumpets resonating in the background, announcing its coming. "I told you, didn't I? Magic is fear," the thrakatul declared.

The creature in front of me certainly seemed humanoid, but a closer look as it emerged from the mist disabused the idea. The thrakatul lacked skin: its exposed hands and face were composed of pages, old scrolls and torn sheets, a patchwork of paper and parchment loosely shaped in the form of a human.

Scribbled words covered its body, their crimson colour reminding me of blood, and shifted, changed at random. On the upper left of its face, the words' dense, circular pattern reminded me of an open, bloody eye; otherwise, the face lacked any features such as a nose or a mouth.

The creature was clad in ample golden robes of silk, covered with bright purple peacocks motifs; the robes' colors, while imperial, lacked harmony. A thin crown of solid gold, nothing more than a circle with ten thorny horns, regally throned upon its paper head. That dress was outrageous, and it almost diverted my attention from its wearer.

"Oh? I know what I said about fear, but why so much? Did my words turn your world upside-down?" it let out a cheerful laugh, amused by its own joke. I pitied it.

It hovered above the pit, walking on the air as if stepping on an invisible floor. "You face Lazarus, god of all magic and supreme ruler of everything; the slave driver of souls, the despoiler of flesh; the one feared by Heaven and Hell, the gate and the key; the great and powerful, the Lord of Chaos!"

"..."

"I know my brilliance must have silenced you, and certainly you must be asking yourself, 'Why? Why is an insect like me worthy of his presence?' Not out of any outstanding quality, certainly, for you most certainly lack one."

The thrakatul chuckled. "Truth to be told, I chose you at random! I was going to pick the man in the next wagon, but he seemed like a bore. A spur of the moment thing really."

I strained a little to test the strength of the chains.

"Don't bother, those chains have bound creatures that can lay waste to entire worlds," Lazarus boasted. It approached me, its mask within an inch of my face, close enough for me to watch the curves and indents morph into the shape of screaming human faces.

"You know the why, but as for the what…" It raised its right hand, grabbed my mouth, and forced me to look straight at its face. "Tell me, have you ever considered becoming immortal?"

He faked waiting for an answer, before continuing with only a short pause. "Immortality is a really nice thing. I mean, dying is also nice but after the first time it loses some of its appeal. When you are immortal, you have enough time to do everything. And I did." His paper face twisted into something that resembled a smile, "I have laid waste to hell and heaven, turned the sky asunder, unlocked the secrets of the cosmos, and shaped worlds; I have seen empires rise and fall, sometimes by my hand, and watched stars be born and die."

It shook its head, as if disappointed. "But for all its perks, immortality has a serious drawback. It's boring. I've seen it all, so to speak, and now the entire universe feels dull." He marked a short pause. "Except pain. Watching you humans squirm never lost its appeal. You understand what I mean, yes?"

It childishly forced my head to nod. "Why, thank you for your support! But, I digress… where was I? Ah, right, boredom. I am bored, bored, bored." Its head wildly twitched, reminding me of a stringless doll. "Bored to death, except I have died so many times death itself bores me now!"

The words on its papery skin lit up, pulsating with fiery light.

"So… to pass time, I have invented a new game all of my own making. It's really interactive, and I never had any shortage of candidates! Not that they have any choice in the matter, but still!"

It raised its left hand and gave me a gentle tap on the left cheek. "And you my good friend, are the newest of the lot!" The trumpets sounded once more in the mist; it would have been funny if I wasn't at the mercy of a madman. "Congratulations!"

Suddenly, his left index started piercing my left cheek, drawing blood.

That was the last straw.

I allowed my true form to bleed out of my vessel.

Space and time shattered. Reality groaned and splintered under the weight of my existence.

Realising what I was, the thrakatul tried to flee, but I restrained it and shaping parts of myself into blades and edges, tore into it. It's current form was just an avatar, a fragment of the whole. So I pushed myself into it, riding the connection to its true self. There, I ripped into it, pierced its innards, plucked out organs, violated it.

Of course, I wasn't usually this violent, but this thrakatul was especially annoying. And of course, the injuries I inflicted are hardly fatal. It's like chopping off a man's arm or leg; they will be handicapped for a bit, but with the right treatment, the limb will grow back in no time.

Lazarus started screaming, so I tore out the parts that allowed it to vocalise. There, much better.

Looking down the world beneath the pit, I glanced at the innumerable multitude of beings gathered by the thrakatul. Apparently, it threw whatever caught it's interest into here, and allowed them to try and escape. A prison with an exit that was nigh impossible to reach for most.

Well, I was kind of getting bored with England. It won't hurt to spend some time here. Pushing myself back into my vessel, I fixed it up, then made it jump down the pit.

The fall went on for a while, and boredom almost re-emerged until I noticed light beneath me. One second I was descending through the pit, and the next I pierced the clouds. The ground beneath me started taking shape. I began to notice colors, blue, brown, black, assembled into vague shapes. The earth called me and I was approaching fast.

I closed my eyes and put my arms in front me, bracing myself for an impact that would never come. Instead, I suddenly slowed down. My descent grew imperceptible until I landed almost comfortably… or as comfortably as landing headfirst in burning sand could feel.

The sound of footsteps then a male voice call to me repeatedly. I raised my head of the sand, slowly opening my eyes, my vision was blurred by the sunlight. I could only notice a shadow standing above me, and metal gauntlets gently but firmly seize me by the shoulders, helping me get back to my feet. I stood up, washed the sand off my face, and glanced at my savior.

There was no doubt that he was some sort of knight, or at the very least fancied himself one. He wore chain mail with a red flame painted on it and a metal helmet covering his face save for his brown eyes. His limbs were covered in protection, but not a single piece matched in design.

It made him look asymmetrical. Most of his equipment was partially rusted, as if he'd robbed a museum to get his attire. He tried to communicate, to no avail. The man sounded French, but I didn't understand half a word he said.

"Do you speak English?" I asked, the man's eyes narrowing in incomprehension. I switched to French. "Je parle mal français. Je parle anglais."

The knight seemed even more confused than before, and proceeded to join his hands in a prayer sign. He recited a few words I couldn't understand, then made a cross movement with his hand.

"Do you understand me?" he asked in perfect English.

"Yeah, I do."

Wonderful," he replied, "I was not certain I could cast the translation spell right. The Lord smiled on me."

My eyes darted around me. I could see a beach of black sand facing a crystalline blue sea. Beyond them stood large constructions. A forest of stone and metal towers, tall or small; tiny houses of wood and archways of marble. I was facing the fringes of a coastal city. The shapes of some metal towers bent in ways that weren't physically possible in normal space. It was nice and reminded me of home.

When I looked at the sea, I noticed colossal, white walls standing proudly. They enclosed the entire ocean. In fact, the structures were so tall I couldn't see their height; they pierced the clouds themselves and in spite of vessel's sharp vision I couldn't see where they ended.

"My name is Sol," the knight declared. "Or at least such is how I call myself. Lazarus took my true name long ago… He took yous as well, did he not? He always does before putting his mark on us. In this way, he owns our soul."

"I… I don't understand," I said, injecting confusion and fear into my voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, my apologies," he excused himself, "Not many Claimed have arrived lately, so I am out of practice. You must feel confused, and I assure you all of us were when we first arrived. I will try to answer your questions the best I can."

"Where are we?"

The knight stayed silent for a moment, struggling to find his words. I recognised that kind of hesitation: when you have terrible news to announce, and you have no idea how to sugarcoat it.

"I would have said Hell," Sol replied grimly, "But you are not so fortunate."


	2. Chapter 2

Sol led me away from the beach to the streets of the nearby city and I followed him in silence; partly because I had nothing better to do and that man seemed nice and worthy of trust.

Leaving the beach, we strode through large, dirty slums. Wood buildings, shacks and row houses were clustered together into formless masses, most of them half-built, barely standing, or on the verge of outright collapse. The smell would have caused more refined people to choke to death, and I saw manholes overfilled with filth. The ground below was black and dirtied with trash and mud. I noticed at one point a stray cat chasing after a trio of black rats.

However, the most intriguingly thing were the inhabitants, for few of them were humans.

Most were small creatures barely taller than a child, yet with pointy hair, sharp teeth, enormous eyes and green skin; others were much stranger, such as walking, vaguely humanoid fish-things; I noticed a woman with bandaged eyes and snakes for hair begging at a street corner. Most of them wore ragged clothes as if they'd scrounged them from among rubbish. Lazarus had been very busy.

Sol suddenly stopped before an isolated, noisy house. Cubic in shape, the wooden building had a few windows and only one, open wooden door. The only remarkable part about it was the name, written poorly in yellow paint on the facade: the Devil's Den.

"The name is blasphemous, and I deplore it," the knight admonished before walking in and making an inviting gesture to follow him, "But the place itself is not so terrible."

The place was obviously a bar, a large one at that. Inhuman drinkers gathered around ten wooden tables, playing cards, dice, or just savoring some beer together. The bartender, like the clients, was no man; he looked like a dog sized, red humanoid with a sizable black maw and an enormous nose. His face and piercing black eyes gave him a masculine, thuggish look, which contrasted with his habits, a mini-tuxedo matching his pint-size perfectly. Standing on the counter rather than behind it, he gave me a nasty glare as Sol and I approached.

"Three times, Sol," he grumbled, "I've told you not to bring beggars to my established enough times, haven't I?" his voice was shrill and grating. "Hmm…" he sniffed the air with his big nose.

"Peace, Booz," the knight replied, removing his helmet and putting it on the counter. Beneath it, he looked like a middle-aged man with short grayish hair and a stern face. "He just landed."

"A new one?" Booz chuckled before roaring to the crowd, "Hey guys! We've got a new guy in town! Come on, a round of applause!"

I heard a chorus behind me, jeers, drunken shouts and encouragements coming in equal measure. "He's one of us! Claimed like all others!" "Poor guy, not gonna last long I'll tell you." "Great, new food for the Divs." "Poor boy, Lazarus claims them so young nowadays…"

"I believe that's enough," Sol's voice roused, silencing the crowd. As the clients quickly returned to whatever they were doing, the knight focused on the bartender. "Two hot cockatrice milks please, for the boy and I."

"Pff, how you torchmen can walk into bars without drinking alcohol I'll never understand," Booz replied, moving behind the bar in search for drinks.

Sol glanced at me. Then his glance turned into a stare and I could see the hesitation in his eyes. "You are taking all of this remarkably well," he said. "Some outright go mad when they first arrive. Sometimes, Lazarus breaks them before he imprisons them here. At least in your case you are merrilly subdued."

I looked back at him. Perhaps I should have acted more distraught? "This has to be a nightmare." I pinched my arm.

Sol stared a little longer, then sighed. "I wish you were right," the knight replied, "Stop hurting yourself. It won't help."

Booz returned with two glasses full of milk and put them in front of us. "That's two keys for that," the bartender rasped. Sol reached in under his chain mail and brought out two small, identical bronze keys which the bartender greedily grabbed.

Sol seized his glass while I left mine untouched. "You must feel lost and fragile," the knight said, "There is no shame in that. I was confused the day I arrived, too. But unlike you, no one came to pick me up. My first days were the worst in my life. Ever since that time, I swore if I could help any newcomer adjust I would."

"Adjust to what?" I asked, raising my voice to add a subtle edge of hysteria. "I don't know anything! It all just went to hell in that train-" I stopped for dramatic effect. "And I… I can't remember…" I muttered, holding my head.

"Lazarus stole your name," Sol replied grimly, "A true name is the core of one's essence, and by removing it, that fiend ensnares our very soul, taking a bit of ourselves with it. Memories that could help us remember who we are, cherished times of the past, family heirlooms… Lazarus takes them away, yet leaves us aware they exist, as if to taunt us."

Well, he wasn't going to be taunting anyone for a while. "He did it to you, didn't he?" I asked. "I mean, what he did to me…"

"He did it to everyone in this city," Sol corrected as he took a sip of his milk, "You are merely the latest in an endless list of victims. When someone catches his fancy, he abducts and drops them in this place for entertainment." Sol put his glass down and removed the gauntlet on his right hand, revealing his skin to me. I noticed a clear, L shaped scar on his palm.

"This is his brand… the same as the one you have somewhere on your body." the knight continued while putting back his gauntlet, "It marks us as his property. Everyone has one, somewhere."

So _that_ was what the thrakatul was planning to do before I maimed him. I shifted my vessel's flesh so that a matching brand formed on its left shoulder.

"Lazarus does not discriminate; he abducts all species and races equally," Sol replied with a forced smile. "Goblins, fairies, djinns… even angels and dragons. God has had many children besides mankind."

"Where are we exactly?"

"We call it Dis, or the Cage," Sol replied, "A world Lazarus created through foul magic. I could go on for hours about its specificities, so I will be short and to the point: Dis is a dangerous place, and it is very, very big. It is a maze that goes on forever and ever."

"He said there was an exit," I pointed out.

"Possibly. He might be lying. If there is an exit, none have found it yet. Many try, and many more fail. God be willing, one will succeed, eventually. I hope." He shrugged his shoulders. "As for this city, we call it Crossroads. When Lazarus catches someone, he throws them here without fail-"

"Sorry, but do you know where the toilets are?" I had gathered enough information for now, and was getting bored of this conversation.

Sol pointed to a cubicle in the corner, and the inside was as dirty was I had expected. The smell alone was overpowering and the drains had overflowed. Disconnecting this vessel's olfactory organs, I waited for an appropriate amount of time before coming out.

When I returned, Sol was gone. So was his helmet and drink, leaving only my untouched glass of milk behind.

"Where's Sol?"

The bartender shrugged his shoulders. "He left. Apparently the Pilgrims are assembling a party to investigate those cracks that have opened up in the ground."

Oh, those wounds I inflicted would reflect themselves here. "When will he return?"

"How the hell should I know? I ain't his secretary." Afterward, he bolted off behind the counter.

I chugged down my drink. It was quite bitter, which was a nice change.

"Cockatrice milk tastes horrible," a melodious voice commented, "Everything else Booz has in store is even worse though, so that's the best you can hope for."

My eyes darted towards the sound's source. A woman with long, brown hair and green eyes approached me. She looked young, about twenty or so, and somewhat lovely. More charming than beautiful, she was dressed dashingly. Her red, long-sleeved shirt, black pants, and brown leather boots made her appear roguish. She wielded a deck of cards in her hands, shuffling them almost compulsively.

"The name's Ace," she presented herself with a charming smile, "Nice to meet you."

I gave her a nod. The look in her eyes told me that she wanted something from me.

"I'm..."

"You'll find a nickname in time," she said, giving me a light tap on the shoulder, "I'll just call you 'the new one' until you find something better. But don't wait too long, or others will start giving you bad ones. Can you believe everyone called me Red Girl for an entire year before Ace stuck? 'The new one' will get old real fast, trust me."

I smiled. Get to the point already.

"Miss Ace-"

"Just call me Ace, Miss makes me sound old."

"Old age is the least of your worries. " someone interjected.

I turned around and faced myself. Rather, a perfect double of my vessel, down the colours of the eyes and the clothes standing right next to me. Some kind of shapeshifter no doubt.

"Who're you?"

"I'm the new one," my copy said, with my voice, "Stop fucking with me, you impostor! You didn't even get my cheek right!"

I stared blankly at the double, who frowned. He hadn't expected such a reaction. "Skins, stop pranking the new one," Ace reprimanded the impostor.

"Hey, it's a tradition," the double protested, before squirming when he noticed I was still staring at him, "Dude, you've got a good poker face, I'll grant you that. Generally people shout at me when I impersonate them, but you just stand there and send me that hollow gaze… you should crack up a little, mister iceberg, or you're never going to get popular with-"

"Skins," Ace cut in.

"Alright, alright…" The double changed, his skin, eyes, nose and clothes meshing together, rearranging themselves. A second later, the copy had wholly transformed into a pale humanoid lacking in any features. The creature had no nails, no hair, no sexual organs, no mouth, no nose, no ears, and no eyes.

"Killjoy," it added with a voice which managed to sound both masculine and feminine at the same time.

"This is Skins, a shapeshifter," Ace said, "Don't mind him. He's good at stealing people's faces and voices, but he's a terrible actor."

"Give me a break Ace, I couldn't study him in detail," Skins replied.

"Anyway, I might sound a little forward, especially since we don't know each other, but… are you interested in a job?" she asked suddenly, continuing within a heartbeat, "Skins and I are part of a small band, that is unfortunately short a fourth. You'll get paid for services rendered, of course."

Ah. That was why she approached me in the first place. "Why a 'new one' like me?" I asked, glanced at the rest of the clients, "Why not them?"

"We need an additional number; you're a new immigrant in dire need of help," Ace summed it up bluntly, "All the people here? They already have a band of their own. You don't. That's the difference."

I thought about it. Again, nothing else better to do besides aimlessly wandering around.

"Look," Skins spoke up, "You're new. Being alone in this city? It's terrible, terrible, terrible." he shivered. "When you've got a Silver Key and no way to defend yourself, it's worse. You'll get robbed before you even leave the slums. And that's if you're lucky. If you aren't, you might get killed, or end up as the Candlemaker's fuel."

"A Silver Key?" Booz was paid with keys, but they were bronze.

"Everyone gets one when they arrive. I would suggest not to expose it though. That's your ticket home." Skins commented.

"And if you don't like us, you can leave whenever you want," Ace replied, "I promise we'll do our best to answer your questions and help you adjust in any way we can."

Ace looked at her deck, drawing a card and observing it. I recognized the symbol on it, that of a jester. As a Tarot card, I didn't know its meaning. "You have a choice," she declared, "You can stay here and wait for the kindness of strangers… or you can take your situation into your own hands. The choice is all yours."

I shrugged.

"What kind of job are we talking about here?"


	3. Chapter 3

As I followed these people through the slums, I half expected them to turn around and attempt to mug me. They definitely had a shady vibe, which was good. Anything but boredom was welcome.

"So… have you ever seen any shapeshifters?" Skins asked, before continuing without waiting for an answer, "We're amazing aren't we? I swear, I can play you a lot better once I get a good grasp on you. You just took me off guard with your _empty_ gaze…like the one you're sending me right now!" he shuddered, "Gods you're creepy. Ace! The new guy creeps me out!"

"Skins, can you be a little less loud?" Ace politely requested without even turning around.

"Tell him to stop looking at me," Skins complained, "I swear he gets off on my unease!"

"You'll get used to him," Ace replied sounding used to those kinds of arguments. She smiled, "Here we are."

We had reached the slums' frontier. I now faced the walls I'd noticed when I fell. They were tall enough that my vessel couldn't see the summit. After a point, it pierced the clouds and continued from there.

The structure itself was composed of gray stone and granite, but it lacked bricks and mortar. The structure seemed perfectly sculpted with precision, in stark contrast with the filth-laden earth. All in all, rather unimpressive, especially compared to Gnh _ë_ ryvybzró.

I remembered to gape and stare at it. "The first time I saw this, I had an expression just like yours…" Ace admitted, approaching the wall and pressing her bare palms against it.

"The walls circle the entire city and the bay," Ace continued before sending a glance at Skins, "Go find Mur and tell him to come to the Ebony Gate."

"You want to take him into the pathways?" the shapeshifter asked, sounding a little anxious. "Isn't it a bit early for that?" Ace said nothing, silently dismissing her teammate. "Well alright then," he quickly relented and bolted off.

"Come with me," she said as she marched along the wall, "I'll show you around."

"I suppose nobody's managed to climb over them?" I mused, walking next to her.

"Many have tried," Ace chuckled softly, "Some even attempted to fly over them. It never works. When they reach a certain height, lightning and strong winds are _suddenly_ conjured up until they drop to the ground."

She absentmindedly knocked the stone. "Others have attempted to dig beneath them, but they go on underground as deeply as they rise above. Lastly, the most obstinate have tried to pierce and bring the walls down by force. After a while they grow so thick and hard tools break instead."

"So nobody's gotten past them?"

"Not quite. There _are_ ways to get past them, and we'll be showing you soon enough." She locked eyes with me, her gaze suddenly grim and serious. "How does watching the walls make you feel?"

"Confined."

"The city of Crossroads is larger than France," Ace nodded, "But no matter how big, it remains a glorified birdcage all the same. Those walls will remind you every time you look up at the sky."

"How long have you been here?"

"Too long," she replied evasively and quickly dropped the subject, "Crossroads is a prison, except the warden is mad as a hatter. Tell me, since coming here have you seen any policemen? Any guards, or any sign of law enforcement?"

I shook my head, inviting Ace to continue her explanations. "Crossroads is a patchwork. People and creatures from countless places and eras are regularly tossed here. They don't share the same culture, the same ideas, and until someone developed a translation spell, they didn't even share the same language. The closest thing to a government would be the various factions."

"Well, someone must have tried to establish order," I pointed out."With as many people Lazarus has probably grabbed, I can't see no one standing up to try."

"You're right. Once in a while, someone tries, but it never sticks. It's hard to get a dragon and a fairy to sit down at the same table, trust me. In this city, it's every man for himself."

"Then how does anyone get things done here?"

"While everyone is different and consensus is impossible, groups of like-minded individuals do gather, from a petty lord's retinue to cartels. They mostly do it for mutual defence and assistance, and then to survive day-to-day life. We call those groups guilds."

"And I bet your band is one such guild, right?"

"You catch on fast," Ace smiled, "No two guilds are the same, but most eventually come to revolve around certain activities. Of course, the system isn't perfect. Feuds and territory struggles between groups are frequent, yet things have worked this way for centuries and so far the city remains somewhat stable."

A city at the mercy of feuding groups and gangs shouldn't be called stable, but I suppose it depended on perspective.

"The same as many others," Ace smiled, "Finding a way home."

As we continued marching along the wall, I noticed a change in the scenery. A large, black archway of darkened wood, large enough to allow an elephant through, was sculpted on the wall itself. green symbols carved on the wood glowed periodically.

The archway opened the way into a dark tunnel lightened by torches, although I couldn't see the end of it. Skins waited before it, alongside two other people.

The first was the stereotypical picture of an imp. He was a small, red skinned creature with little black horns, pronounced yellow eyes, and sharp teeth. The critter had bat-like wings, also black. Each of them was marked with Lazarus's brand. His small hands and feet were clawed and his prehensile tail twitched and waved back and forth. A small, golden crown sat on his head.

Finally, he carried a heavy purse as large as his body. He also levelled a glare at me. "Mur believed you had chickened out," the imp shrieked, sneezing at me, "Who's this moron?"

I glared back at the demon. "I'm right here, you know?"

"Mur does not talk to animals, lest they think they are his equals," the imp snapped, "You should kneel before Mur, for Mur is Master of Legions! Mur infernal duke! Mur dries seas and turns skies ablaze-"

"Yes, and you turn the women barren and raise the dead, yadda-yadda, blah-blah, we get it," Skins cut in, locking eyes with me next, "This is Mur, our troop's vanguard. Don't mind him, you get used to his rambling after a while."

"And yes, he's an arrogant little asshole," Skins continued, "Can't blame him though. He used to be some big shot demon lord before Lazarus caught him and turned him into _this._ "

"Mur will have revenge!" the imp swore, completely ignoring us, "When Mur is great again, he will rain fire and brimstone upon this city!"

The second person was vaguely humanoid save for the fact that he towered over us even while sitting and his hands were bigger than my skull. His brown skin was covered with green and yellow moss. His face reminded me more of a boar than a man, including small tusks and porcine, brown eyes. The walking mountain of muscles was strangely dressed, wearing a savaged leather jacket and ragged brown pants.

"Can I eat your pants?" he said with the most reasonable voice one could imagine from a boar-like giant, "I tried eating mine, but they weren't tasty."

"Sorry but I'm quite attached to this pair."

"Way to give a good first impression, Doc," Skins sighed as the creature shrugged.

"Oh, all my excuses, I forgot to introduce myself!" the giant coughed politely and raised his left index finger as if doing us a lecture, "I am a respectable scientist, Doctor Barnabas von Hobbes, owner of a theoretical degree in mashing, minored in smashing."

"Never heard of it," I deadpanned.

"I know, right? It is… _unique_. I invented it myself! It means I'm an expert at mashing things together until they work! Or smashing them when they do not. I win either way."

"This is Doc, the gatekeeper and the smartest troll you'll ever meet," Skins said, "Which says a lot about trolls in general."

"Indeed, trolls are the world's gift to intelligence," Doc continued, completely oblivious to the shapeshifter's insult. "I am sure you've heard of my most prized invention, the clock that never moves? Since the wearer cannot tell time, he is forced to decide. The user commands time itself! And through that, The World!"

I saw Ace roll her eyes. Definitely an interesting bunch.

I glanced at the gate. "I heard Sol and Booz speak of pathways," I noted, "Is this the entrance of one of them?"

"Indeed," she confirmed. "This is the Ebony Gate. There are hundreds of them around Crossroads, but this one is one of the most famous. The silver keys open hidden doors inside those pathways. Eventually, one of them will be our exit."

"If it's that simple, how has nobody escaped yet?"

"The pathways are lethally dangerous," Ace said bluntly, "Monsters called Divs roam them and attack on sight. Traps abound, and it's pretty easy to get lost."

"Mur loves the traps," the imp smirked, "Mur loves pushing things into acid pits!"

"The Divs aren't that bad," Doc added, "They can be pretty tasty."

"We'll be paid to patrol the nearby pathways, check if any doors have been left open, and close them where necessary." Ace explained.

She sighed. "The risk is minimal, but we can't rule out another Div might lurk nearby. We might have to fight. On the good side, if you join you will get a share of the profits."

"Since you don't have any special abilities, we'll give you a relic. Consider this an introduction gift."

"You want to gift him the robes?" Mur asked, glaring potently at his boss. "You wish to give a hard-earned Relic to a complete stranger? Have you gone mad?"

"None of us can use it," Skins shrugged. "It's not like any of us have needed that thing before now, we won't get a chance to sell it until later… and I don't think it's worth much, anyway. Why not?"

"And what makes you think it will work with him?"

"The deck told me so," Ace answered as she shuffled her deck.

"Divination is not an exact science," Mur protested. "Didn't predict Jack bailing out on us!"

Ace silently glared at him. "Get the robes."

The imp cursed and searched inside his bag. With a heave, he pulled out a long, hooded cloak of black silk. Aside from the obvious quality of the robes, they didn't appear especially unusual or unique. "If you don that," Ace said, "you'll be able to survive this city and the horrors beyond this archway."

"Mur says we should find someone better for them," the imp whined. "He probably doesn't even know how to fight! A waste Mur says, a waste!"

"The choice is yours," Ace said, "Each Relic behaves differently. It might accept you, it might ignore you, it might even harm you. Anything is possible."

"So you're giving me something potentially dangerous, without even knowing what will really happen?"

"Yes," Ace replied, "I really want to see if you have the will to take necessary risks."

Seizing the robes, I promptly put them on myself.


	4. Chapter 4

_In the beginning, it was alone._

 _It had only itself, can only perceive itself, does not recognize the existence of anything else. It never understood that there was another world outside of itself – or around itself – or poured around itself. It was its own realm and Law._

 _That all changed when its Name was invoked. It was not a word that carried meaning; but meaning borne into sound, which is not at all the same thing – it is the same difference between a man that wears a fox mask and the fox itself. That Name called it into – or beside – or through the world; no other power or conception could do such a thing._

 _It knew only one desire upon encountering something that was not itself._

 _Devour._

 _It wished to devour all that it could devour. It carved away pieces of the world, making the territory it's own, swallowing everything the fragment was._

 _But a man had stopped it. With his knowledge of the truth of concepts of the world, he forced it back. He pushed it away from Earth and shoved it into an empty dimension._

 _It fought for the right to devour. It could not understand the meagre feelings of a human and it did not care. All it desired was to devour._

 _It lost. Again and again and again._

 _No matter how many times it yearned to devour, the man would stop it._

 _It relented and the man trapped it within himself to ensure that it would not regain the desire to devour._

How curious.

"Was that your doing, little shadow?"

The shadowy smoke in front of me quivered. I could see the black colossus it once was, and how much had been stripped away and lessened.

A short time later, and it gained enough courage to reply.

"I am Manah, the spirit of the Nightcloak. When you donned the Relic, I established contact." The tone was feminine, sultry and the voice a smooth and brisk alto.

"I was created to be worn and used... and as such, I cannot manifest in the outside world without a partner. If I want to affect that place, and I do, I need a willing medium."

"Sure."

"J-Just like that? I know something like yourself wouldn't care for-"

"In exchange, give me a name."

The shadow tried its best to look confused.

"A name?"

"You can do better than that."

"Shroud?"

* * *

I was back at the Ebony Gate, the cloak draped around my shoulders. My shadow twisted into a feminine shape, animated by Manah.

"Well," Ace said, "Looks like that was a success. How do you feel?"

"Fine. By the way, I've decided on Shroud as a name."

"What? Really? Even Blank is better," Skins groaned. "Shroud's an awful name! It's too generic."

"Don't care," I replied, "It's short and easy to remember." While Skins groaned and grumbled, I glanced at Mur. "Who gave you that cloak?" I asked.

"Someone who did not miss it for long," Mur replied with a smirk.

"But now that you have a Relic to protect yourself, we have a pathway to patrol."

...

Dug into the wall itself, the tunnel was composed of blackened wood that had been perfectly sculpted in the form of an archway. Lanterns attached to the roof barely provided light. Our group progressed slowly, Mur flying and scouting ahead of Ace while Skins closed the march. As the gatekeeper, Doc hadn't followed us, instead keeping sentry at the tunnel's entrance.

"You haven't told me what we're supposed to do here. I understand we're patrolling the area, but do we even have a map? Are we looking for new paths?"

I heard Skins scoff and Mur let out a low, mocking laugh. "Those areas have already been explored a long time ago," Skins pointed out, "Nah, we're here to…" He paused before glanced at Ace. "Actually, Shroud's got a point. What are we looking for?"

"The Div that attacked earlier today must come from somewhere," Ace said, "We've been tasked with checking out this pathway in case he went through it."

"Couldn't have Doc sighted the Div if it crossed the Ebony Gate?" I pointed out. "He's the gatekeeper."

"He would have, _if_ he'd guarded the gate the entire day," Ace replied, "The Gatekeeper guild is understaffed and lacks the numbers needed to oversee all the city's pathways."

"So we're going through the whole corridor just checking the walls until we find a breach?" I asked.

"I told you, breaching walls is impossible," Ace shook her head, "However, sometimes an idiot leaves a door open to a savage Fiefdom and Divs start pouring out of them."

"Fiefdom?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Crossroads is only one area of the Cage among many," Ace explained, "The pathways lead to very different planes of existence. Those are what we call Fiefdoms. I'll tell you more when we reach a Gate. Consider this your introduction."

I nodded and, with nothing else to be said, followed her. After a time, the tunnel bifurcated in half. The path to the left was no different than the previous part of the tunnel. The path to the right, however, was closed by a wall of solid, pink light. It obviously wasn't part of the original design, but an added feature. "What is this?"

"That's the path to the Fiefdom of Darkthorn," Skins said. "Guilds condemned all access to it a few years ago. That's a magical barrier a Mapmaker warlock put up to prevent people from passing through."

"Why?"

He didn't even bother looking at me as he replied, "They couldn't risk anybody opening _that_ Gate." His voice was haunted and filled with an unpleasant bitterness to it.

"Some Fiefdoms are simply too dangerous to be open to all," Ace added evasively, taking the left path, "A few are so terrible they will only be explored once all other options have been exhausted. Trust me when I say you don't want to go much farther."

While vowing to investigate later, I simply followed for now. The group seemed a bit pressed to be done and get back, and I was certain I wouldn't like the reason why. "Stop!" Mur's voice interrupted my thoughts, "Listen!"

Immediately, we stopped dead in our tracks. At first, I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary until I picked up a faint sound of steps further ahead.

The creature towered over us from its twelve feet. The thing looked like a bipedal horse, with a vastly distended belly, almost twice larger than his shoulders. Its hooves made the ground tremble with each step; its strong humanoid hands carried a long, sharpened silver spear.

Briefly, it passed beneath the light, and I realized this creature's hide was a patchwork of human skins sewn together. Its tiny, blue bloodshot eyes glared at us with savage glee, and a black, spiralled horn protruded from between them.

The monster opened its mouth, revealing a maw of sharpened fangs, to let out a roar and pointed its spear at us. Without warning, it shone with bright, blue light and arcs of electricity gathered around it.

"Get down!" Skins shouted while pushing me to the ground. The spear released dozens of lightning bolts. Each impacted on the tunnel's walls without aim and turned the place into a light show.

While we were down, Mur dodged the bolts while Ace simply drew a card from her deck. The bolt miraculously missed her, hitting the roof above her head. The spear lost its light, its power expended, only for the abomination to charge forward.

Undaunted, Mur flew onward and pointed his small fingers at the creature. An impressive pillar of fire materialized right under the beast to incinerate it. But though the monster's hide reddened, it continued its advance undaunted.

"Mur you idiot, now he's pissed and fire!" Skins complained while helping me get back to my feet. "Ace, draw another card!"

Ace shuffled her deck, but the horse reached her first, aiming to impale her with its horn. With surprising speed, she stepped back to narrowly dodge the creature's strike. In the space of a heartbeat, she swiftly drew another card. The massive monster tried to stomp her head beneath its hooves, but instead lost its balance and tripped against the nearest wall with a tremendous crash.

Unfortunately, that moment was short-lived for as it roared and stomped the ground in rage, I saw the creature use its spear as a cane to clumsily rise back up. "I can't hold him down for long," Ace declared, turning around and inviting me to follow her, "Let's go!"

"Retreat!" Mur cried shrilly, fleeing with Skins and Ace in tow. I prepared to follow when I realized my shadow had left, instead slipping through the holes in the monster's sewn flesh. The monster had almost risen back on his hooves, and the fires conjured by Mur had died out.

 _"It has a heart,"_ Manah said, _"I saw a heart beneath its skin, that unicorn's only organ. I would have crushed it but…"_ She carelessly waved her immaterial hand.

" _Which of the cloak's powers could potentially pierce that monster's skin?_ "

She didn't answer immediately. _"None of the cloak's powers has offensive applications. O_ _r at least not yet._ _"_

No matter.

I willed it, and reality acknowledged that the shadow was material.

With the sound of a long rattle, the Div stilled as if it had suffered some kind of stroke. Its chest burst open, and the heart bled thick, onyx blood as it was torn to shreds in my shadow's grip.

Seconds later, the monster's moans and rattles stopped and it lost its equilibrium. I expected it to collapse on the spot, but instead, it remained upright. Its arms and fingers relaxed, dropping the spear to the ground while the maddened gleam in its eyes vanished. The others returned as the commotion came to a close.

"What was that?" I asked.

"A Div," Ace answered, panting and putting her deck of cards back inside her pocket, "They're creatures that roam the pathways, killing everything they find."

"Be glad this one was so weak," Skins said, "The really tough ones would have mopped the floor with us."

"Wait," I paused for effect, "You mean this one was a warm-up?"

Mur grumbled at that, "Why do you think no one has escaped yet? If a Div was roaming through this pathway-"

"Then a Gate has been left open here," Ace caught on, moving onward, before briefly stopping and facing me. "Oh, and Shroud?" She gave me a wide, friendly smile. "Good job."

I returned the gesture with a sharp nod. While Ace quickly returned to the task at hand, Skins moved to the Div's corpse and picked up its silver spear. "You're taking it with us?" I asked.

"Hey, we've got to take a trophy from Patchorse," Skins replied, pointing the lance at me with… less than expert skills. "Besides, don't I just look amazing with this spear?"

"You named that monster Patchorse?"

He shrugged, "I thought about Bruno the Unmount, but Patchorse sounded better," Skins said as we followed Mur and Ace through the tunnel, "Also, thanks for the tip. You're creepy, and dull, and unfunny, but you're alright."

"That's the greatest compliment I've ever heard. So how many of those monsters are around?"

"How many?" Skins repeated, "There's no end to them! Lazarus makes them so we have a challenge, you see? That creep just gets off on our tears. Fortunately, with few horrible exceptions, they fight alone so we generally outnumber them. Unfortunately, they make up for that with sheer overwhelming power."

"And the spear?"

"Oh, Divs usually have a magical item, Relics, on them. Lazarus has to give us a carrot to keep us motivated, you see?" Skins chuckled. "Where do you think that cloak of yours came from, originally?"

Before I could reply, I noticed Mur and Ace had ceased walking. Further ahead, the tunnel ended with a large, opened gate of thin gold, barely thicker than a paper sheet. It was equipped with an elegantly designed silver lock.

Past the doorway, I couldn't distinguish anything but darkness _._

"Here is a Gate," Ace declared, "Further is the Fiefdom of Nocturne. The Div we fought must have stumbled through it."

"Didn't you say this part of the maze had already been explored?" I asked. "How could a Div have stumbled through, then?"

"The Fiefdoms are, themselves, connected to other pathways which are linked to undiscovered Fiefdoms; so Divs often wander from one Fiefdom to another. Most of the Gates are closed when we find them, but not all of them."

"Mur is getting impatient," the imp hissed, flying toward the door. He started to close it. "Mur says we should lock it before a new Div goes through."

Ace nodded, before glancing at me. "Since it's your first time, I'll let you lock this one yourself."

I brought my silver key out of my pocket, much to the roguish woman's appreciation. Once Mur closed the door, I stepped forward and placed it in the shining lock… only for the key to move on its own.

The thing rotated and shut the door tightly without any effort from my part. Strange runes briefly flashed around the border of the Gate only to vanish within the blink of an eye.

"Are you sure it will hold? That door looks so thin, it could be kicked down without much effort, let alone by a giant monstrosity…"

Mur snickered. "You idiot, those Gates are fueled by Lazarus' magic. Nothing can breach them. Mur tried, Mur failed!"

"I told you Silver Keys were your way to freedom," Ace said, "Do you understand why now?"

"Only they can open or close those doors."

The woman nodded and coughed. "All in all, gentlemen, a job well done," she congratulated us, "We're going to return to the city and reap our well-earned reward."

"And… the Patchorse'scorpse?" Skins' head perked up at this. "Do we leave it? What if it somehow revives or attracts other Divs?"

"Let the Fleshcrafters take care of that," Ace dismissed my concerns. "That guild specializes in Div dissection."

"And vivisection," Skins shuddered.

"Now let's go," Mur said, "Mur wants to bathe in his pay."

"Before we go," I turned my head at them, "I would like an answer on something."

Perhaps it was something in my tone, but the trio stopped and turned around like one man. "Go on, speak," Ace asked, although I was certain she had already guessed my question.

"The Div," I said, "Its eyes were too human."

Ace met my gaze. "If you do not escape Dis, you will remain there, forever."


End file.
